


Añoranza, Homesickness

by indescribablehorror



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Cuban Lance, Dancer Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, I honestly don't know what im doing aside from basic plot, Lance (Voltron) Has ADHD, Lance can no longer pretend to be okay with his circumstance, Lance is Coran's favorite theres no denying it, NO PLAN WE DIE LIKE MEN, Nonbinary Pidge | Katie Holt, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sad language and linguistics major writing this, featuring me projecting my adhd onto lance, homesick Lance, honestly I dont know if there's going to be pairings, honestly i dont know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-09-08 11:55:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8843902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indescribablehorror/pseuds/indescribablehorror
Summary: Lance didn't know he would miss speaking Spanish so much. Lance gets extremely homesick. The other eventually figure out what's up and decide to help....by learning Spanish. Secretly. With almost no access to learning tools. Lance is dealing with some stuff he didn't know homesickness would bring up or vice versa.





	1. Lo que perdió

**Author's Note:**

> yo I haven't written fanfiction for like years and like used it as an unhealthy outlet in some ways and I'm over it finally so I guess this is the first new fic I've written and such. I'm open to suggestions and comments etc.

_ Crystal blue waves crash on a familiar shore. There’s salt in the air. The water curls, moving, falling slightly, then crashing. Crisp, fresh, inviting. The white sand blends with the seafoam. Almost blinding. A beckoning noise, distant and indecipherable. Similar to the sailboats in the distance. Small, blobs on the horizon. The tide recedes and a breeze mingles with the trees. It dances around, stroking and holding. The waves push and pull against the sand. Every so often a bird sounds. Louder this time, but still hard to distinguish. Hot sand motivates quick steps.  _

_ Siblings. Laughing at tourists. Angry that they ruin the beaches. Insults. They want their town back. Hang-outs in the local pizzeria. Chatter. It sounds again. _

_ A party. Salsa, Bolero, Rumba, Cha-Cha, Mambo. Their rhythms change between dances. Some dances with partners, some dances without. Some dances done with more than one partner. Dances with kids. Teaching the basic steps, a couple of turns thrown in every so often. Chatter. Laughter. Finally close enough to tell, soft,  _ Querido _. Giggles between dance partners during messed up steps. The whole barrio is there. Louder.  _ Querido _.  _

_ A dinner table. Family, older and younger siblings, kicking each other under the tables. Food, fresh and warm. Spices, hot sauce,  _ queso _. Taunts and jokes are made at the expenses of other siblings and the conversation quickly becomes rowdy. A large table. A sunday meal.  _ Tíos, primos, abuelos, hermanos.  _ The words and titles are familiar but there is a block _ .  _ Perhaps it's an invisible force, or maybe it's made up. Everyone gets ready for dinner. The last few food plates are being put out. A colorful room. Neat placemats on a long table. Hand carved. A family heirloom. Intricately carved patterns, stories of the ocean on the sides and legs of the table. Fingers run over the familiar edges. Tracing the shapes. Following the stories. People lean in towards others, caught up in their conversations.  _

Querido. Cariño. Estrella. _ The word is there but it’s not, it’s not registering. The older woman puts down the last dish. Her face...concern? A little. Disappointment? Yes, definitely. Sadness? A wish that it was unseen.  _ Has olvidado tu propia lengua, mijo?

 

It’s earlier than usual when Lance wakes up. He lies motionless, staring at the ceiling of his room. Tears gather in pools and spill over. The feeling of numbness and his tears collide and he can’t tell how he feels. Empty, maybe? Lonely, definitely. Lance breathes out shakily. He closes his eyes and pushes more tears out. He sucks in another breath. The ever-present longing for home rampages through his thoughts more than usual.

Home. Here is home. Well, here is home-esque. That’s not to say Allura and Coran didn’t try their hardest to make the castle welcoming. The Castle of Lions is big. There’s plenty of room for silence. Vast, unending silence. It almost echoes in a place this big. It’s unerving at times. Lance tries to fill it up. Chatter, jokes, taunts, anything to fill the void of sound. Nothing quite mimics the rowdy atmosphere of home. Especially not visits from neighbors, friends, and family. Hunk, Pidge, Shiro, Keith, Coran, and Allura are great, but Lance misses the constant social stimuli of his house. Blue is a good friend too. But that relationship is a little different than any other friendship Lance has.

Lance allows his mind to think of his family. He sees them, but when he looks closer the details are all fuzzy. Faces blur and distort slightly. Lance wishes he could have a picture of his family with him. He tries to refocus. He tries to draw in details he knows should be there. No one looks quite right. Even his memories feel distant. Lance covers his eyes, partly in frustration, partly in shame. He fidgets around under the covers a little more. He attempts to correct his emotional state with his physical state. 

A couple angry tears fall. Lance hates that he fails to properly remember. He grabs some of his hair in his hands. He pushes the palms of his hands against his eyes. He tries to force the memory to return. It’s there in the distance but when he sees it up close all the details are gone. His family just look like strangers. He can’t quite reconcile what’s wrong with them. The more Lance tries the more frustrated he gets. He balances himself against the wall long enough to collect himself and then he moves forward.

The castle’s ambiance still takes a lot of adjustment on Lance’s part. It feels so cold. So empty. Metal halls, metal floors, metal door ways, metal rooms. Lance curls his toes under the covers. He would kill to feel wooden floors under his feet right now. Lance snorts. Of all the things to miss, floors? He also hates having to wear his shoes everywhere inside. What crazy person wears shoes all around their house. But, the castle isn’t much of a house.

Lance has to take his time to get up. It’s slower than normal. He slides his feet out from under the covers, lowering them to the ground. He twists his torso to his side. He lets the weight of his upper legs pull the rest of him. He squats slightly with his chest and head still flush against the bed. He kneels and the forward momentum pulls his chest completely off the bed. Lance lulls his head forward and then slumps his entire body onto the ground. Physically, he knows he’s fine, but his mind feels exhausted. He slowly pushes up with only his arms, and then uses his legs, and gains a good footing. He sways as he walks to his bathroom to get ready.

Everything seems a little more difficult than usual. As Lance goes through his morning self care routine he can only think about his dream. Why was it so hard for him to understand what his mom was saying to him? He starts his skincare routine, every so often looking at the mirror. Lance washes his face. He scrubs at his memories, he scrubs at the numbness. He rinses his face, he splashes himself multiple times. He hopes it would snap him out of this rut, but it doesn’t. He moisturizes. He sees everything that’s wrong. He sees Earth so far away across the galaxy. He sees the heartbreak in his mom’s eyes when he refused to speak Spanish after being harassed at school. He sees Cuba. But despite all the things he sees, he can’t see himself.

Lance breathes in and out. He practices his personality. He fingerguns at himself, he winks, he makes a couple silly faces. After he feels he has rehearsed enough, he looks in the mirror one last time and smiles. He leaves and walks around the castle for a while. 

Lance ambles down the hall and walks past Shiro’s open door. He sees Shiro do a double take from the corner of his eye. Lance notices that Shiro peeks his head out of his door to make sure he saw correctly. Lance can feel Shiro pause a moment. He waits in the hall a second, slowing his already slow stride when Shiro approaches. 

“You’re up early”

Lance slides into his act, smiles while making a grand gesture, putting his arm on Shiro’s shoulder and sinking slightly into the lean, “The party train decided it needed to be here earlier today.”

Shiro rolls his eyes, “Whatever you say, Lance.” He gently takes Lance’s arm off his shoulder and turns back to his room. 

Lance’s smile disappears the minute Shiro leaves. His entire posture drops like a marionette cut from its strings. Lance catches himself and continues walking. He wonders how transparent his facade had been. Shiro always seemed to know when there was more to the story. Lance quickly preoccupies himself with wondering how hard it was going to be to maintain appearances today. He hopes that it’s not going to be one of those days, but he can’t help but feel like today would not be so kind .

“Maybe I should go back to bed” Lance mutters to himself. “...No.” Lance knew he would only be able to focus on his dream if he tried to fall asleep again. But then again even mentioning the dream brings it into focus. And he was thinking about the dream again, anyways. 

Lance attempts to divert his thoughts to a couple of different things. He thinks of the goo, he snorts at the thought of his mom’s horror when she finds out that’s what he’s eating now. He thinks of Blue, the thought of the blue lion immediately brings up the ocean by his home. Somehow each thought brings him back to his dream. Lance tries to physically shake the thought out of his head. He closes his eyes tightly and holds on to the thought for a second, and then it's gone.

Lance slows to a halt. He thinks that maybe these feelings will resolve themselves. He hopes. He believes. He absentmindedly inspects the bolts on the wall. They suddenly become very engrossing. He is certain, or at least he pretends to be, that these thoughts will soon part.  _ Fake it til you make it _ . Lance sears this into his head, it's his mantra, his way of life. He predicts the turn of events for the day. One shitty day and then he would return back to normal. 

Normal. Lance plays with the word in his brain. A great philosophical debate, what is normal? But what is normal for him? At first normal was his home, his neighborhood, the beach. Lance’s dreams grew and then normal was the garrison, away from home. And Lance, never able to contend himself with stagnation, followed Pidge that fateful night. And ever curious, Lance followed Keith like a bug to a lantern. 

_ Maybe that’s where normal stops.  _ Lance thinks to himself. But now he has a routine. So now would be the new normal. Or is it just be an adventure until he returned home? Lance groans as his mind flits from one thought to another. He wants to cry

Lance resumes walking. He brings himself to a large window in a rarely walked area. At first he traces his sight over the edge of the window, procrastinating, just a little, on what he’s going to do next. The universe is outside of it. Lance searches for something, for just a second. He knows it’s a lost cause, it’s not like he would be able to see something so far away, but he can hope. 


	2. Sueño del desierto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Voltron trains on a new planet, Lance dreams more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to get this up sooner I was trying to perfect it (sorry). Please comment, help me water my crops! Also there's a couple of pictures I did to go with this chapter at the very end or you can find it on my [art tumblr](http://procrastinatorinator3000.tumblr.com/) Anyways the next chapter is going to get even more into Lance's emotions

Lance slowly meanders to breakfast. Despite how early he had woken up he still is last to the table. Keith chides “where’ve you been?”

“What, you miss me or something?” Lance looks down as he sits down in his seat next to Keith.

“Well you pranced your happy ass in here later than usual”

“You keep time for all of us, or am I just special?” Lance pushes his shoulders up, tilts his head, and blinks his eyes in a flirtatious manner at Keith. Keith turns his head away and gently pushes Lance a little bit, putting some room in between them. Lance makes eye contact with Hunk and Hunk gives a slight smile. 

Lance breathes in a second and tries to remember how he would normally respond, “Don’t you love me Keith? Wouldn’t you be just devastated if something had happened to me?” Lance emphasizes his words with a dramatic movement, resting his hand on his forehead and pretending to faint.

Keith looks away and his cheeks redden slightly. He lets out a small “No.” It’s rather obvious that Keith didn’t mean it, but somewhere Lance can’t convince himself of the falsehood of Keith’s statement.

Hunk looks to see Lance playing with his food, not really concentrating on much. Hunk nudges Lance and tilts his head towards Lance’s bowl. Lance seems to snap out of him momentary trance and looks from Hunk to his bowl. “Oh” he thinks for a second, looking for the words he wants. “I guess I just have some things….uh, the word, uh for the, um shit.” Lance looks a disappointed that the word he’s looking for escapes him.

“Have a lot on your mind?” Hunk looks at Lance as Lance just hums back to him. 

Lance turns to Hunk and looks at him dreamily, “pienso que hoy está,” Lance thinks for a bit realizing he’s speaking Spanish, “one of those days…”

Coran looks at Lance and Hunk and asks, “What was that you just said?”

“Oh, ‘one of those days’?”

“No before,” Coran leans in and Keith, Pidge, and Shiro turn towards this conversation.

“Oh that, that was me talking in Spanish,” Lance pauses to think and then continues, “Sometimes I mix up English and Spanish, usually my ADHD just makes it so I tend to forget words but I guess I’m forgetting that none of you speak Spanish.”

“Fascinating! On what world is Spanish spoken?” 

“Um, Earth actually, there’s a lot of languages spoken on Earth.”

Coran’s question piques Shiro’s interest. “Does Altea not have many languages?”

Allura and Coran share a side glance to each other and Allura answers. “Well, Altea did a long time ago but as we united our planet we merged all languages into one”

Coran rests his fist against his chin. “There were quite a few dialects of Altean, but overall people spoke the same language.”

“A lot of people speak English on Earth.” Pidge adds.

Lance snorts “Yeah, most.”

The interest in each other’s home planets continues. Lance excludes himself from the conversation. Allura notices, and quirks her eyebrows, but just gathers the rest of team’s attention.

Lance sighs when Coran and Allura announce that they are taking team Voltron to train. After breakfast they dismiss and prepare to go through a wormhole jump. 

Team Voltron arrives on another alien planet. It looks eerily similar to the desert Keith’s shack resides in, except for the colors. The sand is a luminescent red-orange, but pinks and even blues show up, mimicking a burning sunset back on earth. Despite how hot the sand looks, it’s cool to the touch. The air is warm, but not dry. The land has many arches and structures, almost looking man-made, but too organic to be so. 

Pidge looks out at the world through the windows before they ask, “Where are we?”

“We’re on a dead planet. To be exact, everything here used to be an ocean, the entire planet actually,” Coran strokes his mustache a little as he continues “It all dried up about twenty five thousand years ago. No one really knows what exactly happened. Now it’s mostly used as an obstacle course.”

“The structures of this place are fascinating. They’re so intricate.” Pidge looks around excitedly. 

Coran leans in towards Pidge to tell them more about their new surroundings, “The inhabitants of this planet built up natural formations into shelters and other things. There are carvings in some of the caves, grand structures and the like.” 

Allura claps her hands together as the team steps out onto the terrain. “Here we’ll be testing you guys with team and partner work using the environment around you. Each team will try to not be caught by the other while looking for the target,” Allura shows a blue and gold circular piece. “The catch is that this piece will move on its own accord.” Allura pauses to look around, then, commandingly she separates the team into groups. “Hunk and Pidge will be one team, Lance and Keith will be the other, Shiro, for this exercise you will be on your own, but you can team up with one team or the other, whichever.” 

Shiro nods in response, Pidge and Hunk turn to each other, and Lance strolls over towards Keith. “Hey buddy! Ready to be in cahoots against the rest of team Voltron?”

Keith leans his head away from Lance, “Whatever you say, Lance.”

Lance puts his right arm over Keith’s shoulders and they walk into one of the alleyway like paths. The structures tower over them and they both look around in mild awe. Lance tries hard to deal with all the circumstances despite how he feels. Keith runs through the alleyways and Lance runs to catch up, he pushes past reds and oranges in the structures. 

The structures towers over them; images of the Anasazi and Pueblo cliff dwellings dance around in Lance’s head. Keith steps forward towards an entrance. Lance follows. Neither can explain it, but they feel drawn to this structure. Keith examines the cave-like entrance before he walks into it. Lance, again, follows suit. They look around the dwelling.Lance and Keith look towards each other and share a wordless exchange, both too fascinated by their new surroundings. Even in the dim lighting they can see intricate carvings and decorations on the walls. 

Lance preoccupies himself with the detail of the carvings. Every so often Lance and Keith glance back at each other. The images were carved, then painted, the paint almost a faint glow in greens, blues and pinks. The colors remind Lance of the reefs off of Varadero.  He shakes the thought away. He refocuses his mind on the images before him. They almost function like comic book panels, Lance notices that the images tell a story.  Lance sees faces next to images of water, Lance briefly feels like he’s back home on the beach for a second. Lance finds the beings in the carvings interesting to say the least. They seem like a mixture of different aquatic lifeforms as opposed to one race. Some of them seemed almost like mermaids and sirens Lance would hear about from superstitious neighbors. His mind wonders briefly in a daydream of him and a mermaid having adventures and falling in love. Lance sighs, discontent with his lack of focus and moves to the next image, the beings in the image seem to be pleading. Mournful figures look up at a crystalline sea, some seem to be bowing in prayer or submission. The image freaks him out a little; he feels a deep sadness from looking at the images. He briefly puts his left hand over his chest where he feels a pang of sorrow. Lance notices that in each scene more and more of the rock formations are showing above the water. He glances at the last glyphs, people huddled together, some seemed to be parting from the others. The rest are left behind. Lance looks a little to the right of this huge story wall and sees what he believes to be hurried scribbles. He assumes they were in the language spoken on this planet. Then there was nothing. Lance searches around for some kind of continuation, scanning everything over and over. There had to be more, the story, what happened to those who left, to those who stayed, what caused the destruction of this planet. A puzzle he certainly can’t solve yet he tries to do so anyway.

Keith pulls Lance away from the glyphs and out of the cave. That's when they hear the other team approaching, and begin to run. Keith and Lance see that Hunk and Pidge were coming from behind, a little ways away, and Shiro was coming from a different path, towards them. 

Lance breathes in and out. He can feel waves of frustration pushing him. Lance imagines what Keith is thinking,  _ maybe its something like ‘great, I’m stuck with Lance on this’ _ . Lance feels sweat drip down the back of his neck. He feels the brightness of his surroundings bombarding him. Every single sound, the wind howling through the alleyways, the repeating sound of their steps, Lance hears it all. Lance can only imagine someone holding a microphone to all these sounds and sending them back to him. Everything overwhelms Lance; he only feels annoyed at everything around him.

Lance continues to follow Keith. He briefly thinks about how this is the longest Keith has ever held onto him. Lance wishes Keith would spend more time with him at least. In some ways Keith is like a stranger to him. Lance thinks about everyone. He thinks of Hunk. Hunk was the only one Lance ever dropped his perfect accent and spoke with the accent he struggled hard to cover. Lance thinks about bringing team Voltron to meet his family one day. They’d love them. Maybe more than him. Maybe being in space would get him more attention. Despite having to fight his siblings over attention, he never blamed any of them or their parents. 

Lance daydreams of being with his family. He pretends he and Keith were searching for his siblings in an intense game of hide and seek. He keeps going. He focuses on the thought of his parents, his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins. Lance squints his eyes to dim the brightness that overwhelms him. He pushes forward.  _ Just til the end of this exercise. _

Lance looks around while Keith is still pulling them through the maze-like alleyways and arches. Lance notices a small alleyway off to the left of them and stops. Keith stops too. Lance points towards the alleyway and points back towards Shiro, who wouldn’t be able to see where Lance and Keith were going. Keith furrows his brows and looks away.  _ He didn’t understand _ . Lance puts a hand to his forehead and slumps slightly. Keith looks for a different solution and Lance tries to predict what Keith will do.

Lance sees Keith look around quickly and bash his bayard against a thin column. Lance looks up and sees that the arch would not fall as Keith had thought. Lance reacts quickly, he runs forward, pushing against Keith and running still. The arch falls in an almost graceful manner. Lance and Keith watch it fall, it resembles a tree falling, slowly then quickly, ending in a loud boom. Lance gets them just barely far away enough that they don’t get crushed. Lance and Keith fall to the ground, Lance’s body is positioned to try to block any debris from Keith. Sand and dust follow the collapse and Lance tries not to breathe. Keith looks at Lance blankly.

A moment passes, then another “What the hell Lance?” Lance ignores Keith and tries to focus on something. He listens to the footsteps of his teammates approaching. He listens to the overall silence of the planet. Those noises aren’t much to Lance compared to the frustration he feels directed at him.

“Oh my god are you guys okay?” Hunk’s pants for breath only exasperate Lance. 

Shiro approaches them, eyes conveying worry, “What happened?”

Lance pulls himself together and all he can think to do is to yell “Why didn’t you go left?” 

“Can’t you communicate properly? Speak English” Keith waits for Lance’s reply. Lance and Keith glare and the rest of the team prepares for another argument. Shiro sighs and Pidge and Hunk just watch. There’s nothing. Lance’s faces shows something fleetingly, and goes back to looking pissed off. The lack of an immediate comeback surprises Keith. Lance backs down from the argument and leaves. Everyone stares in awe or shock.

Lance’s retreating form vastly contrasts the orange and red of the sand. They all watch. Pidge and Shiro look towards each other, Keith stands awkward and frozen, Hunk pushes past them and jogs lightly to try to catch up to Lance. 

“What did  _ I _ do” Keith asks, voice cracking slightly when he says ‘I’. His eyes search the ground, trying to understand what he did, trying to be sensitive but feeling a little attacked. Shiro and Pidge close the gap between them and Keith. 

Pidge stares at Keith, “What  _ did _ you do?”

 

Lance walks for a bit, finally getting back to the castle. He walks in, more like rushes. He tries to hold himself together.  _ Just until I’m alone _ . He puts himself together and walks by Coran and Allura at the monitors and they stop discussing things to work on to look at him. He gives a slight glance at Allura, then Coran, he almost looks guilty of something. He pauses. He thinks. And he goes on. 

“Oh, Lance, how did the training go?” Coran asks right as Lance tosses his helmet onto a seat and continues on his way to his room.

“Lance...” Allura asks hesitantly, Coran and her share a conversation worth of looks.

Hunk bursts in a few seconds later. Coran stops Hunk, “Did something happen?”

“I don’t know,” is all Hunk gets out, before he follows after Lance.

Hunk gets to outside Lance’s room and hesitates. He knocks lightly, barely making a sound. He knocks again a little louder. 

“Lance-,” Hunk slides the door open but Lance’s room is empty. Hunk runs a hand through his hair, breathes out and walks back through the hall towards the lounge. The blank walls help Hunk focus on what he says when he returns back to main hall to see the rest of the team talking to each other. 

“How is he?” Shiro asks, concerned, his eyes look down in remembrance of this morning. 

“I don’t know, he’s not in his room, a-and if he’s not there he’s somewhere hiding, and--”

Pidge cuts Hunk off in an attempt to stop his worry, “It’s okay, big guy.”

“Maybe we should give Lance some time, then.”

Keith sulks in the corner, arms crossed and defensive. He looks away from everyone, not wanting any grief from them.

 

Lance is curled in the corner of the observation deck of the training hall. There was no practice in here today, no one would guess he would be here. He rests his head on the wall and stares at the ceiling, then closes his eyes and imagines the waves on Varadero. 

  
  


_ Lance looks around, briefly snowblind, but he sees that he’s at Varadero beach. He spins around to take in everything around him. Lance feels the heat of the sun on his skin. It’s something he relishes, deep down he knows it won’t feel the same later. He sees his friends and siblings, drawing him towards the waves. No tourists. Lance laughs. The beach is theirs again, at least for now. Lance and his friends whoop and holler and the grab boards and a small sailboat and go off to have some fun in the surf. _

_ Lance sits on the edge of the sailboat. He thinks about how he usually surfs, but he decides that just watching the ocean is enough for now. He takes in everything a million times over. He hangs his legs over the side rests his feet in the water. Lance looks at the crystalline aqua blue. It’s darker further out. Lance likes the many shades of the ocean. Lance likes the feeling of closeness, of home. Lance likes how the water embraces him when he is in it. Lance thinks he may love the ocean as much as his family. _

_ The sea turns a little more than usual. The swells push and pull the small boat. His siblings and friends are all chatting away. The beach is long gone. The chatting escalates to inescapable bickering. The sea tosses the boat back to and forth even more.Dark blue. The sky swirls. Gray. The clouds obscure them. Black.  _

_ The beach was back, the sun was back. Lance felt safe again. He jumped into the water to rinse off the troubled feeling. He was surrounded by bubbles as he entered the water. The water was beautiful as always. The bubbles don’t leave. They were fizzing from him.  _

_ Lance feels himself dissolve into the water. It’s a sensation Lance can’t quite explain, it feels tingly, yet painful. All the worse the pain is dulled by the sense of loss that Lance feels as he disappears. At first he screams and thrashes and calls out for his friends.  _ Ayudame! _ Help me, please! It’s useless. His shoulders cave and he pulls his arms and legs into himself. The sense of loss widens into a gaping hole. He sees bits and pieces of his body fizz away with the tide. He lets himself sink down. He let himself be washed away.  _

_ Lance has not fully disappeared when the water around him begins to boil. Hot. He feels it on his neck, his back, his toes, his hands. He licks his lips. Need help. Water. The water is rapidly disappearing. A shadow covers him. The sailboat is above him. He screams out bubbles. They blend in with the boiling water. He reaches towards his friends. They look at Lance, the try to grab him. Don’t go.  _ No vayas! Por favor no vayas! 

_ Steam obscures their faces and Lance can’t seem to recall them. He pushes a few strokes upwards. It’s excruciating. He breaks the surface. He looks for someone, something, anything. The water dripping off his skin weighs him down so much. So much. He wants to let it pull him down but he knows that it will bring worse things. The steam on the surface begins to choke him. He no longer cares about the burning heat of the ocean. Lance is tossed around like a ragdoll. He feels waves slap him over and over. Forwards. Back. Down. Up. New angles. _

_ Suddenly steam is all he can see. Lance closes his eyes, scrunches his face and covers his head with his arms. It stops. Sand burns his skin. He looks around. He is in a desert. He begins choking. The air hurts his throat. Dry. No water. Nothing conceals him from the heat. . _

_ The air is killing him. He longs to dissolve in the sea again. The air is choking him. He gasps. _

 

Lance wakes up coughing. 

  



	3. Entendimiento

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance tries dealing with his heightened feeling of homesickness, others try to understand a him a little more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so chapter 4 is half way done....sorry for the long break. I actually have art for this chapter as well but it's not quite finished yet so I'll edit that in later on....again sorry. As always comments and kudos are appreciated, especially comments.  
> Next chapter will center around some new perspectives and focus less on Lance...(hint)

Keith feels like he is going to lose it. Lance wasn’t at Lunch or Dinner. He runs through what happened today trying to find something, some clue somewhere. Keith lays in his bunk staring at the ceiling. He looks like he is about to do situps but he doesn’t. _Lance had acted like a child. It’s not my fault. But I feel bad. I can’t understand him. Why can’t he just be straightforward._ Keith lets out an exasperated groan. He pushes himself off his bed. Not being able to understand Lance agitates him so much. Keith sneers when he sees his reflection in his dagger. The cool blade usually calms him, but now it just riles him up more. He throws the knife down onto his bed. Keith kicks the wall, he feels the pain of it, but he ignores it. Keith pushes himself against the wall, balling his hands into fists. _I don’t even know what set him off. But this time...Lance. I don’t know why he didn’t say anything back. Why would he react like that? Should I go find him?_

Keith glances around his room, maybe something could give him an idea of what to do. Lance is a mystery. Keith knows Lance doesn’t hate him- or well, didn’t, given their latest stupid argument might have ruined that. Keith decides to walk around the castle. _I might run into Lance._ There is no hope nor malice in the statement. It’s just an objective fact. Keith runs through scenarios in his head. He could run into Lance and go down many different paths. _I could apologize...But I don’t know what I did wrong. I do know whatever I did I hurt him._ Keith breaks off for a moment, weighing the hypothetical situation. _I could avoid him. But I know what Shiro would say. I could act like nothing happened, but then wouldn’t I only be hurting him more? Like what if he’s just keeping track of all the mistakes I’m making. Just one more mistake._ Keith keeps walking, he chooses random hallways to turn, right, left, right-ish, left, left. The more Keith thinks the faster he walks. _I should talk to someone. Pidge and Hunk trained with Lance in the garrison. Pidge might not be as helpful. Hunk can understand Lance better, I think. However, Coran seems to be pretty close to Lance too. What would I even say? What did I say to set things off with Lance? I don’t understand. I’m lost._

 

Lance rolls onto his side and and lets the coughing fit die out. He rests his cheek against the side of the ground; he feels the cool metal contrast the warmth of his skin. A moment passes  Lance gracefully pulls himself back up to a seated-position in an overdramatic, graceful way. He thinks for a while, not focusing on any one thing, just keeping his mind from home, and slowly regulates his breathing. He wonders how long he had been hugging his knees to his chest. Lance rolls up from his position and he heads towards the showers.

He doesn’t take off whatever clothes he has on. He turns the water on and presses his back against the wall. He stomps his foot and slides down to the ground. He sits and leans his head back. His face fully experiences the shower. Lance closes his eyes and tries to remember the rainy season in Cuba. He briefly laughs at a memory of him with his cousins as kids, angry at the tourists, treating them like a fascinating cultural experience. Lance remembers how they treated him badly when he got to school, the contrast.  

Lance sobs, but even in the despair of his emotions he doesn’t let one sound slip. He cries on his hands and knees. He curls into himself, his mouth shapes a scream but nothing comes out. Lance can’t let anyone know. Lance is still happy, arrogant Lance. Nothing is wrong.

Lance runs through scenarios in his head. He can’t help but believe that nothing he could do would alleviate his problems. A thought. _I must be acting like a spoiled brat_ . He knows the ache he feels is real and he knows there is some justification for his feelings. _I’m lucky, I have it better off than Pidge or Shiro or Allura or Coran._ Lance concludes that the best thing to do is to continue trying to  support his teammates. _My problems are infinitesimal compared to what we’re dealing with, what problems the universe faces_.

Lance’s clothes are soaked through. They chafe and scratch at his skin and hang loose on his body. He jokingly thinks that his dragging clothes represent how he feels. He props one knee up, leaning his frame over knee. He rests. He lets out a long, frustrated sigh. He pushes himself off his knee and listlessly pulls himself up. Lance rests his chest against the shower walls and looks up, as if hoping for divine intervention. He pushes off the wall and shuts the water off. Drops still fall down his face, momentarily blurring his vision when they fall into his eyes.

Lance grabs towels and covers himself with them. He stumbles to his room, walks about five steps and when the door closes, collapses on the ground. Lance curls into a clump of towels and lays there. He pulls one of the towels tighter around his shoulders and closes his eyes. It’s summer time. He feels the humidity, a passing storm in his island’s rainy season. And Lance feels the comfort of his siblings and his mom and dad. Lance pulls the towels even tighter. _If I stay like this, and keep my eyes closed, maybe I’ll end up back in Varadero_.

Lance shifts and finds himself increasingly uncomfortable with his wet clothes rubbing against his skin. _Just one more thing_ . He rolls onto his back and kicks the towels off of him, struggling slightly, and moving around on his back to get the towels out from underneath him. Once Lance frees himself from his cocoon he pulls himself up with some difficulty. Lance feels as if he’s trying to move through molasses. He stands, and sways for a second before he begins to pull of his wet clothes. _It feels like a skin that doesn’t fit me anymore._ Lance stops for a second, trying to put words to his feelings and getting frustrated when they evade him.

Lance changes into new clothes and falls down onto his bed. The mess of towels and wet clothes stays in his mind but he pushes it back, not caring about it now. “What a fucking mess.” Lance closes his eyes, knowing no one could hear but him. Images of the pile of wet clothes and towels come to his mind, even though Lance knows that is not the mess he meant. Lance continues the image of the beach, he begins putting everything in its place, the ocean crashing onto white sand, the sun above him, his family surrounding him. A voice comes to his mind, _Lance, what are you doing?_ Lance almosts laughs at his mind’s creation of his mother’s voice. He constructs the voice over and over in his mind, the sweetness, the maturity and wisdom, the love.

Then it hits him. He opens his eyes and lets out a slight squeak from the back of his throat. He searches around the room, paralyzed with fear. “Mama, why would you say that?” Lance thinks back to the heartbreak he saw when he chose to stop speaking Spanish. “Mama, you would never,” Lance pauses hoping he could find some resolution. Lance realizes he is no longer thinking in Spanish. He tries to remember how long ago he stopped. _How could I do this to myself?_ With the thought he panics and searches for answers in his native tongue. He doesn’t think straight in his panic and can’t find the right sounds, the right words. He lets out a short sob. He chokes on it and gasps for breath. His chest heaves and he no longer cares. He slides out of his bed and lays his back against his bunk. He grabs for his pillow blindly and pulls it towards himself. He lays down on the cold floor of his room, too heartbroken to get up. His tears track all over his face and he feels them streak down to land on his pillow. Lance sniffs, he chokes on a small scream. He coughs and lets air come into him again. It’s cold and it bites in his aching throat. He turns his face and digs it into the pillow. After burying himself he begins to count his breaths until they steady. He feels a coolness surround him and drifts off.

Lance wakes up in a haze. He rolls around on his floor, trying to focus himself. To many things blend together and he can’t tell them apart. He feels sweaty, he feels the humidity around him and he swears that Cuba appeared in his room for just a moment. He can’t quite shake the feeling. Lance misses the humidity. The cold of space and the regulated temperatures of the castle contrast the environment he grew up in. His mind works hard to sort out his senses. Lance swings his legs around and pushes himself of the ground. Lance smiles to himself a little. _I’m beauty, I’m grace, I’m a huge fucking disgrace_. Lance laughs a little to himself and then sets off for another part of the castle.

Lance lets his fingers move against the wall as he walks towards his destination. The dimmed lights tell Lance it is night, but he ignores it. His tunnel vision consumes him, he wants it to, he doesn’t want to see what he is outside of it. He finally arrives and opens the doors of the training deck. He takes a deep breath and starts toward the center of the room. Once in the center he draws himself up, straightens his shoulders and looks down. He takes his right foot and begins tracing curves into the floor. He does the same with his left foot. He snaps his head forwards and steels himself. He goes into a graceful run and begins a series of leaps, jumps, and hops. He winces when he makes small mistakes in his footing and timing. He repeats his steps, changing them and trying to better them. They were great, but Lance frustrates himself on the small errors that are few and far between. He pushes himself further, his neutral face turns to a grimace. Before long Lance’s eyes water. He lands from a grand leap and pulls himself together. Lance agrees with himself to not start crying. He rests, catches his breath, and preps himself again.

Lance takes his stance, and begins with some arm movements and lunges. He remembers the feeling of fluidity and tries to present that in his dance. He moves around doing different spins, leaps, and jumps. He switches his legs around and moves like the tide, moving forward, then backwards.

Lance closes his eyes and music starts in his mind. A couple of songs all at once. He sorts through the memories. A performance here, and neighborhood party there. All the sounds clash but Lance admires the way they do like a symphony unique to him, no one else could ever hear or understand. He dances with one of the kids from his neighborhood, then with a cousin at her wedding, then in the light on stage, smiling as he sees his family there watching.

He knows he is not on stage performing, but Lance suddenly feels and audience with him. He straightens up even more, and continues his dance, half hoping to show off, half hoping that whoever was watching would leave. He begins a spin and as he turns he sees the doors to the training deck are open, even though they closed behind him. He leaps and does more turns. As he does he sees Allura standing, curiously, right by the door. Lance begins to think, and then he stops. He ends his series of turns and looks to the door, then Allura.

“I didn’t know you could dance” Lance flushes with embarrassment of being caught, but stutters out a thanks to Allura. “You’re quite graceful.” Lance sheepishly accepts the compliment and thinks of something suave to say, but nothing comes. Allura notices Lance’s misstep, the hesitance seemingly unbecoming of Lance. “I didn’t mean to spy on you or anything, I am sorry. I just heard someone in here and thought it might’ve been Keith or Shiro not sleeping.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s just me in here...not sleeping.” Lance rubs the back of his neck while thinking of something to say. Allura walks out to where Lance is and sits down on the ground. She looks up at Lance with soft eyes and pats the ground next to her. Lance accepts her invitation to sit on the ground with her. He settles down, resting his arms on his knees, trying a little too hard to look casual.

Allura gazes at Lance, Lance suddenly feels like he is powerless in her gaze, he is unraveled and she can see through him. “You know Lance, I never properly thanked you for saving Coran that day,” Allura sees Lance’s look of surprise and disbelief and continues “Coran is like a second father to me, and even when you didn’t know him very well, you still put his well being over yours, I’m grateful.”

Lance nests his head in between his arms, trying to hide the brief flush to his face. He is surprised that Allura would mention something that seemed so distant “It’s nothing, really. Coran is important.”

“And you’re important too, Lance.” Lance gives Allura a hint of a smile and then goes back to a blank face. Allura senses the unease about Lance. “What is Earth like?”

Lance gives a moment’s pause, wondering where Allura is going with this topic, but he pulls his legs up closer and sits a little taller. “Earth is--nice. There’s a lot there. The school I, we, me, Hunk, and Pidge, went to was in the desert, dry, hot weather, sand everywhere. Where I’m from is far different. Cuba is a tropical island, the perfect temperature. My favorite season is the rainy season, everything always seemed so lively after it. There was always places to go and see, scuba diving, everything.”

Lance looks over to Allura who looks like she is trying hard to imagine it. “I have a big family, a couple of older siblings, some younger ones, a lot of cousins. I always hated tourists. I mean I get it, seeing new places is cool and all, but they treat us like an exhibit, not people who live there all year round.”

“People come there often?”

“Well yeah, it’s a beautiful place near the ocean, with amazing views. A tropical paradise, places to go, things to do, all the normal attractions.”

Allura hums, still paying attention to Lance, still watching him talk. “You miss Cuba a lot then?”

“I mean, I thought that was obvious,” Lance has a hint of a playful smile on his face.

“No, I mean, I don’t mean, uh, Cuba is very important part of you?”

“Yes.” Lance tries to find a way to convey his emotions to Allura. He wants her to understand him. “Isn’t Altea important to you?”

“Well yes, but it’s gone now”

“Not like that, is there some part of you, that loves Altea, it’s your pride, you’re so happy that that is your home, nothing can change that?”

Allura pauses and seems to weigh her responses, a little surprised at what Lance said. In a small voice, Allura replies, “Yes.”

Lance nods, and a small realization that he was having a deep conversation with Allura. He breathes in and as if shakily taking steps across a tightrope, he begins to tell Allura more, “It’s...weird. I missed home even in the garrison, but here, I’m just so far away. Back at the garrison there was a guarantee that we would go home. Holidays, vacations, etc. Here...nothing is safe or sacred.”

Allura opens her mouth in subdued shock, “Lance, do you want to leave?”

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want to go home, but I have responsibilities now, more than anything I’ve ever had. I’ve been coming to terms with that, but being stranded in a sense, is...what if something happens to me? Will my family ever know? What if something happens to them, I won’t know.”

“Nothing is going to happen to you” Allura takes on the air of a true leader, of a diplomat, ensuring Lance’s safety. She looks to see if Lance believe her, but only sees uncertainty. “But... if anything happens to you, I promise, I will tell your family. I guarantee it.”

“Thanks.” Lance leans a little putting the slightest pressure on Allura’s shoulder. Allura stops a reflexive pull away and relaxes. Lance and Allura relax a little and lean against each other.

“Tell me more about Cuba.”

Lance feels a rush of happiness that the princess would listen to him ramble about his home. “Well, it’s an island, so there’s a feeling of vastness with the ocean everywhere. I’m from Varadero, it’s in the northern-ish part of Cuba. And like, there’s a bunch of beaches. The sand is this beautiful white, kinda like your hair,” Allura looks down at her hair and tries to imagine the place. “And it’s soft too. The sand in the desert by the garrison was this rough scratchy sand. Varadero has such smooth sand. The water has this crystal blue to it, and the further out you go the deeper blue it gets. Everyone is always so warm. And not like in the temperature way – I mean sometimes, yeah, but they always were so welcoming. You could always smell food from the vendors, it almost seemed like it was an inseparable part of the air. And there’s always gorgeous plants there. The animals were all cool too. One time when I was a kid I took a bucket and waded out into the water and tried to catch some fish” Lance turns to face Allura completely before he continues. “And so, like, I put the bucket under, but then the tide was receding back and it was pulling my back and pulling me along with it. And I put up a fuss, my older brother thought I was in trouble and came running but like, I was just me trying to catch fish, and when it didn’t work I started crying, like big time, and my brother thought that it was hilarious.” Allura looks at Lance and just imagines a younger version trying to catch fish in the water, the image makes her laugh a little. “Afterwards my siblings took me to a pizza place by the beach to cheer me up. Hard for a four year old to be sad with some pizza.” Lance smiles a little.

Allura and Lance lean against each other. The training room is empty, and feels a little liminal, but Allura and Lance emanate a brief peaceful feeling. Lance’s eyes are almost shut when Allura speaks up, “What’s been bothering you Lance?”

Lance leans away, the question startles him more than the interruption it causes. “I- uh, what do you mean?”

“You’re more tired than usual, and your arguments with Keith end with you disappearing.”

Lance looks straight forward, not looking at Allura at all, the emptiness and silence seem to grow with each other. “It’s not like I can tell you.”

“Why can’t you tell me, Lance?” Allura pleads, concern written all over her face.

“Because it’s stupid! Because I’m already the idiot in this group, I don’t need to add more fuel to the fire!”

“No, you’re not, but why would you say that?”

“Because none of you respect me! You all care, but I’m hardly taken seriously. I’m a fucking joke! I can’t even respect myself! A fucking joke,” Lance’s frustration covers all his words melting into solemn acceptance.

Allura works for a solution, her mind finds none. She doesn’t want to say it outright, but what Lance said makes her think. Allura puts her hand on Lance. She feels a little bit hurt when he curls into himself more. “I’m sorry,” Allura pulls her hand away from Lance, thinking of something else to add. “Maybe next time you could teach me to dance?”

Lance understands the nuances Allura was trying to convey, to try to reach for Lance. He knows she’s trying, and he feels grateful.

Allura gets up and offers her hand to Lance. Lance grabs it and Allura pulls him up with comical strength. Briefly, Lance lets out a laugh. Allura looks at Lance as he walks away, head hanging.

“Goodnight, Princess.” Allura feels shaken by the deep, mournful voice Lance uses. She feels a quick quake of a feeling. She feels the restlessness appear in her chest. As soon as he leaves the room Allura’s shoulders drop and she feels like she’s been kicked while she was already down.

To no one in particular Allura sighs “I fear I may have messed up.”

Allura begins down the hall and goes to the hangars. She gets there and she can sense all the lions recognize her entrance. She looks around at the lions and then walks towards the Blue Lion. She stops in front of the lion and thinks. Allura doesn’t know what to say, she just feels like she should come to Blue. She shifts her weight a little and digs for what drew her here.


End file.
